


Forever With You

by Anonymous



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: 90s, Aftermath, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cameos, Canon Era, Character Death Fix, During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Friendship, Gen, Loss, Love Letters, M/M, Modern Era, Multi, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Reincarnation, Time Travel, btw sprace is endgame so they DO end up together, character death in chapter 9, death mention in chapter 8, just not in the way you would expect i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-07 02:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15208403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In 1899, Spot Conlon is the leader of the Brooklyn newsies, writing away his thoughts and hiding them inside his desk for safekeeping.Meanwhile, in 1999, Tony Higgins receives an antique desk for his birthday and finds an old letter stuffed in one of the slots, the name, Spot, his only lead in this mystery.What becomes of that summer is a series of time-traveling letters, falling in love, and the realization that Spot and Tony know each other better than the two ever could have imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Brooklyn, 1899**

With the sun setting on another day, Spot stretched in his seat, his back popping as he yawned. His room was painted in a soft glow, shadows cast in familiar shapes, and he looked back down at the letter on his desk. 

Addressed to no one, Spot reread his worries of the day, noting which ones he could take care of sooner rather than later, what needed to be saved for another day. Perhaps if he was older, he would have it all figured out, but for now, he needed to look after himself as much as his newsies. With a satisfied nod, he folded up the paper and stuck it in an envelope, pretending to send it away to a far-off place. 

It was Racetrack who suggested this. Writing letters as if he had someone that would respond. He could write down his fears without judgement and the secrets would be safe with him. Tucking the envelope into one of the small slots in his desk, Spot then got up from his seat to look out the window. 

From here, Brooklyn was beautiful. 

The ships sailing in the harbor, the chimneys with rising smoke, Spot wished it was always this simple. Maybe then, he’d know what to do. When to do the right thing. 

Sighing, Spot opened the window and sat down on the ledge, his mind drifting away to a world where he could just simply be.

* * *

**Manhattan, 1999**

“Happy Birthday, Anthony!” 

With the blindfold taken off his eyes, it took Tony a moment to adjust to the sight of his bedroom before he saw the desk that sat in front of him. 

“Wait, is that from the antique shop?” Tony whipped his head towards his mother and best friend. 

“Yes!” Sarah clapped as Tony’s mother nodded with a bright smile.

“You’ve had your eye on it for so long and now that you’re seventeen, I think it’s well-deserved,” his mother explained. 

Rushing over to them, Tony wrapped Sarah and his mother in a hug, thank yous spilling from his mouth. 

“Man, I can’t wait to use this,” he turned back to the desk, his hand running along the darkened wood. “Maybe should refurbish it too, huh?”

Sarah and Tony’s mother gave nods of agreement as Tony set to inspecting every inch of it. 

“It’s in great shape though. Can you imagine? The 1800s!”

“Suppose things were meant to last a little longer back then,” Sarah joined Tony’s side and Tony beamed. 

Ever since the day he had laid eyes on it, Tony was drawn to this desk. It sat in the antique shop for years and whenever he got the chance, Tony would check to see if it was still there. A part of him was curious if the shopkeeper had saved it just for him, the price never rising, the desk remaining in its spot as if rooted there.

Momentarily drawn away from the attention of the desk, Sarah and Tony helped clean up the aftermath of the small party, leaving only the balloons as they were. The real excitement would be coming tonight and Tony was grateful for the time alone with those he felt closest with. 

With Sarah’s departure and promise to return before the others would come to pick him up, Tony went to his room, admiring the desk again. Covered in small nicks and scratches, Tony could only speculate who the previous owner was. What they may have created on this desk. Now it was his turn and Tony sat down, his mind running wild. 

Opening up the front, Tony ran his fingers along the wood, the cracks of memories. One drawer here, some tight spaces there, he almost missed the yellowed envelope poking out until he peered closer at the small slots in the space above the flat part of the desk. 

Tugging it from its place, Tony examined the envelope, turning it over and finding it unsealed. He glanced over his shoulder, as if making sure he wasn’t being watched, before taking out the contents inside. 

It was a letter, drawing Tony in as he read through the rough penmanship, the story that lay on the parchment.

_June 22nd, 1899_

_Speckles fell off the pier today. Thought we almost lost him, but he pulled through. Got a real talking to from Silver, but it wasn’t nobody’s fault. Just gotta keep a better eye on him is all._

_That’s the thing, isn’t it?_

_I’m the leader, everyone expects me to take responsibility. More like take the blame. They forget I’m just like them. Not that I want them reminded really. I need their respect and loyalty._

_I don’t know why I’m writing this. Who I’m even writing to. Can’t tell Race I’m actually feeling better from this._

_Tomorrow we’ll work on things. I’ll get some of the bigger boys to watch out for the little ones. We’ll share the load. That’s what they do in Manhattan supposedly._

_Well, that’s all I have for now._

_Spot_

_P.S. Should I even put my name on this? Race said I had to but it feels dumb._

Blinking, Tony struggled to take a breath, his surroundings unfamiliar. The blue on his walls wasn’t the sky, his clothes weren’t rough on his skin. He was a fish out of water, eyes going wide until a knock on his door shook him from his state.

“Anthony, you should get ready soon,” his mother’s voice came in muffled from the other side of the door.

“All right, Ma,” Tony responded, his voice cracking. 

Folding up the piece of paper, Tony tucked it back in the envelope, yet he didn’t put it back in the slot. Something was calling him back to it. Shaking his head, Tony closed up the desk and got himself ready for the evening. 

He’d have time to think about it, but for now, it was his birthday and he needed to enjoy the time while he still had it. 

~

It had been years since Tony had a bout of insomnia, yet there he was, tossing and turning in his blankets. 

His night out with friends was fun, but they weren’t enough. His mind kept drifting back to his desk and by the time he arrived home, Tony all but ran to his room. He read the letter over and over, an ache growing in his chest.

He wanted to reply. Whoever this Spot was, they seemed to have the weight of the world on their shoulders and Tony couldn’t help but put himself in Spot’s shoes. 

Staring up at his ceiling, Tony shook his head. All he wanted to do was write a letter back, but it made no sense. He’d be responding to a ghost, a memory of the past. It was foolish to keep thinking about this. If he hadn’t found the letter, his life would’ve gone on as normal. Why this was causing a sudden upset was beyond him. 

Rolling over, Tony grabbed his phone and called Sarah, leaving a voicemail when she didn’t pick up. Even if she wouldn’t hear the message until morning, he had to get it to her. Letting the phone drop on the bed next to him, Tony finally succumbed to his exhaustion with only the letter on his mind. 

~

Sarah had arrived promptly the next morning, giving Tony a concerned stare as she sat on his bed. 

“You’re not dying though, right? Your call sounded serious.”

“I’m not dying,” Tony laughed a little, shaking his head. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Birthday troubles?” Sarah tilted her head and Tony handed her the letter.

Watching her eyes dart back and forth, Tony grew impatient, fidgeting until Sarah looked back at him. 

“This was in your desk?”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. “And I can’t stop thinking about it. I want to write a letter to this Spot.”

Sarah raised her eyebrow at this. “First name basis, huh?”

“This isn’t a joke, Sarah,” Tony scowled. “I couldn’t sleep last night because of this.”

Flopping down on his bed next to her, Tony covered his face with his hands. He had hoped Sarah of all people would at least offer a little sympathy.

“So, write back then.”

Sitting up, Tony stared at Sarah for any signs of deceit and she softly smiled. 

“I don’t see the harm,” she shrugged, looking back down at the letter. “Oh, Katherine might have some old stamps and her dad owns that old building with the mailbox!”

Sarah’s eyes lit up and Tony leaned back a little, trying to catch up with her. 

“We’re going all out then?” he mumbled, his eyes trailing back down to the letter. 

This was what he wanted, what kept him up all night, and if it was the lack of sleep clouding his judgement, Tony wasn’t going to fight it. 

“All right, let’s send a letter to Spot,” he sighed, getting up to the desk and grabbing some supplies.

With Sarah hopping over to his side, Tony’s spirits began to lift, his words flying onto the paper as if it was his calling all along. 

~

“Uh…” Katherine looked at the two of them, her eyebrows furrowed. “Old stamps. Okay. What year?”

“1899,” Sarah blurted out and Tony flushed when Katherine continued to stare. 

“Right.”

Digging through her piles, Katherine mumbled to herself before she pulled out a packet with old stamps shoved inside of it. 

“Any of these should work,” Katherine handed it to her friends. “Not that it would matter, I’m sure. I don’t really get what you two are doing, but have fun?”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Sarah blew a kiss to Katherine, who laughed brightly.

“Ugh, get out of here.”

Without needing another warning, Tony shot out of the office, Sarah’s laughs trailing behind him. 

“See? Told you she had some.”

Tony nodded, stopping in front of the old mailbox carved in the marble walls of the building. While the walls around the mailbox had changed, the discolored metal remained as it had been with its engraved date signifying the end of the Civil War. Tony felt a familiar tug as he gazed at the box. He had seen it his entire life, wanting to put something in it time and time again.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Tony placed the stamp on the corner of the envelope before shoving the letter into the box. 

It landed with a hollow thunk and Race pursed his lips. 

“Feel better?” Sarah nudged him and Race let the smile form on his face. 

“Yeah. Loads.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by a Hallmark movie called The Love Letter that I saw one (1) time back in like 1998 lmao 
> 
> anyway if you want to know what will loosely happen for this story; you can read the movie's synopsis just to be prepared :d most of this was inspired by the '92 Newsies movie as well, but please feel free to read this with the characters you know best!!
> 
> again to reiterate the tags: Spot and Race do end up together in the end and I'll let you know what chapter the death takes place in once i have a better idea of how these chapters will be posted ye


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot thinks Race is up to no good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to sarahjacobss on tumblr for beta-ing!!!

**Brooklyn, 1899**

Spot stayed away from the docks after the incident. He’d be back in a few days, but he didn’t want to look at the water. It stung too much and he fiddled with the cigarette in his hands as he watched a few younger newsies play on the sidewalk. Some kind of hopping game was all he could make of it. 

“Letter for Spot Conlon?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spot turned to the unfamiliar voice to see a postman standing near him. Holding out a letter, he gave Spot an expectant look and Spot took it with a scowl. 

His name was neatly printed on the front, but there was nothing else besides the stamp. 

“Probably one of Race’s tricks,” Spot mumbled to himself, opening up the envelope as the postman went on his way. 

The handwriting was odd and the date was surely a joke, but Spot couldn’t help reading on

_Hi Spot._

_My name is Anthony Higgins (you can call me Tony). I found your letter in an old desk I got for my birthday._

_I’m not sure why I’m writing this. It’s not like you’ll ever get it but whatever._

_Anyway, I’m sorry about all your troubles. It’s hard when people look up to you and expect perfection. I’ve been there. When I fell, a lot of people turned their backs but at the same time, I found those who mattered._

_I hope you have someone like that. Sounds like this Race is pretty important to you and they care too. Hold on to them, that’s all I can say._

_Man, your letter kept me up all night and now I’m finally getting tired. Thanks. I mean it._

_Anthony_  
_(Tony)_  
_(Whichever_ ) 

_P.S. If you keep writing letters, put your name at the end. It’s the integrity of the thing that matters._

It took Spot several tries to understand the letter, the unfamiliar phrases and the sentences that didn’t read just right. His stomach churned, a breath leaving him when he looked up at his surroundings.

“Race, goddammit,” Spot shook his head and caught an older newsie’s attention to take charge before he headed to the bridge. 

If Race had wanted to talk, he could’ve just come over himself, not send a cryptic letter. 

Spot muttered to himself the entire length of the bridge in threats and swears until he fell into the familiar streets of Manhattan.

“Higgins, get over here!” he shouted when he spotted Race and his friends cajoling about. 

“Spot,” Race grinned, oblivious to Spot’s anger. “What brings you to ‘Hattan?”

“This,” Spot shoved the letter in Race’s face. 

When Race took the paper, Spot dragged him away to an alley, away from prying ears and eyes. 

“What kind of game are you playing at?” Spot threw out his arm. “I wrote that one letter because you asked. You weren’t supposed to reply. How the hell did you even find it?”

Race’s eyes flew over the letter in his hand and he turned to Spot slowly. “Spot, I didn’t write this.”

“What?” Spot hissed, searching Race’s eyes for the lie.

“I swear,” Race held up his hands. “This ain’t me. Sure, the guy’s got practically the same name, but it ain’t me. Cross my heart.”

Spot blinked, taking a step back from Race. “Wait, your real name’s Anthony?”

With a blush, Race tucked him arms into his sides. “Well, it’s Antonio, but yeah.”

“Oh,” Spot breathed, the name repeating over and over in his head. It fit like a glove. “Well, mine’s Sean.”

At this, Race perked up, a small smile growing on his face. “Sean? I like that. Real Irish.”

Spot waved Race off in attempt to hide the blush that crept up. “If you say so. Anyway, if this ain’t you, then who is it?”

“Uh,” Race glanced back down at the letter. “Well, someone from the future. Look at the date.”

“Race, I saw that,” Spot rolled his eyes and took the letter back. “How can something from the future end up here?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Race grinned. 

With a huff, Spot pocketed the letter and led the two of them from the alley. That wasn’t the answer he wanted, almost convinced that Race was still pulling his leg. Yet, the look in Race’s eyes didn’t hold their usual teasing. Curiosity hung on the edges and Spot shook his head as his own thoughts swarmed.

“Sorry for getting angry. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Should check if your letter’s still in your desk,” Race suggested as Spot walked him back to his friends.

“What?”

“Check. Your. Desk,” Race repeated. “That’s where you put your letter right? If it ain’t there, then maybe…” Gesturing to the letter, Race let Spot finish the sentence mentally and Spot nodded. 

“Right. Letters that travel through time. Okay, Racer.”

Not much else was exchanged between the two before some Manhattan newsies pounced on them, leaving Spot to practically tear himself away from all the hand claps and hugs. The walk back to Brooklyn was too long and by the time Spot reached his lodging house, he tore inside, slamming his door behind him and throwing down the door of his desk. 

His letter was gone. 

Feeling, searching all over the desk, Spot could find nothing of the letter he had written and he stared at the woodwork. It couldn’t be real. Things like that didn’t happen. 

Taking a risk, Spot went to the bunk room, asking around if anyone had seen a letter. When all he received was honest no’s, blank faces, Spot accepted those truths and went back to his room. 

Of all things to come from writing a letter, Spot never expected this and he threw the envelope from the mysterious “Tony” onto the desk, his head starting to hurt. 

It was all a bad dream and when he would wake up the next morning, he’d be able to laugh at whatever was going on.

~

Spot wasn’t laughing.

The letter remained on his desk, his printed name staring back up at him and Spot scowled. 

“All right. Fine.”

Sitting down, Spot grabbed a wrinkled piece of paper and started writing, his emotions leading his words. He’d sort this mess out if only so he could have some piece of mind. The pestering from Race wouldn’t stop, he knew that, and if this Tony was anything like Race, he’d never hear the end of it. 

It was killing two birds with one stone and by the time Spot was finished, he was almost out of breath. Folding up the letter, Spot shoved it into the slot, not even giving the paper the decency of an envelope.

He was all out anyway. Figuring he could look for stray bits of paper supplies as he sold, Spot headed downstairs with the rest of his newsies, hoping the headline would be enough to distract him until he got a response. 

If he ever got one.

* * *

**Manhattan, 1999**

Tony thought his shift would never be over.

He almost didn’t show up for work, but when Sarah arrived on his doorstep, one step ahead, Tony couldn’t stay at home like he wanted to. 

“You can’t keep thinking about this, Tony,” Sarah sighed when they clocked in. “You sent the letter, that should be enough for now.”

Tony didn’t know how to tell her how wrong she was. It’d never be enough. Every day since sending the letter, Tony would check the desk, his mailbox in hopes of a response. He knew it was silly, that he was riding on a wave of useless dreams, but he couldn’t help himself. Writing to Spot felt natural, as if he had spent his whole life doing it. 

His heart told him Spot would reply, so he held on to the fragile string that his life threatened to cut so easily. 

With a shrug, Tony pretended to put it in the back of his mind, but all through his tasks he could only think of what it’d be like if Spot were there or if he were in the past. 

When his shift finally ended, Tony rushed to punch out, a hasty goodbye to Sarah as he made his way home. 

Today was the day, he was sure. 

Racing up to his bedroom, Tony opened the desk as quickly and carefully as he could, his breath catching in his throat. 

There, in one of the small slots, lay a folded piece of paper. His hand was shaking as he pulled it out and for a brief moment, he worried that this was his mother’s or Sarah’s doing. Then, the familiar handwriting drew him back in and Tony knew this was Spot.

_June 27th, 1899_

_Tony,_

_This is confusing. I don’t know how you got my letter and that you’re somehow from the future._

_Race told me to write you back but this feels dumb as ever. This is just a test. If you don’t write back, then I’ll know he was fooling me._

_I guess I should say thank you if anything. It’s nice to know I got some kind of sympathy out there. I don’t need it, but it’s nice._

_Someday, I’ll be on my own and things will be okay. Maybe Race will be there, maybe he won’t. It’s up to him._

_For now, I’m just taking each day as it comes. Hope you’re able to do the same._

_Talk to you never._

_Spot_

Tony smiled and he couldn’t help read over the letter again. Spot seemed sweet if not a little hard on himself, but Tony didn’t know if he should’ve expected anything less from a boy in that era. If Spot was a boy. Tony wasn’t about to make judgements on names.

Frowning to himself, Tony sat back in his chair and looked around the room. Spot had to be his age if not a little older or younger. No adult would talk to him this way. Glancing down at the paper again, Tony squinted, just noticing the smudged ink at the bottom of the page, the words printed smaller than the rest of the letter.

_I take it back. I want Race to be there._

Tony’s heart beat wildly in his chest, but that only brought with it a twisting stomach. It wasn’t him Spot was talking about, yet Tony was excited, elated that Spot cared so much about this Race. He wanted to see how their relationship would develop while an ache grew inside of him. 

“What the hell is wrong with me?” Tony muttered, running a hand through his hair. 

He could feel where he was going, the tug that was all too familiar and he struggled to keep his brain in control. 

“Well, here goes nothing.”

Starting up another letter, Tony wrote in a flurry to Spot, his words halting his straying thoughts. Reading over what he had written, Tony deflated, his mind fighting over if he should send it or not. 

Then again, this was between Spot and him. If Spot happened to share it with Race, so be it, but Tony believed Spot wouldn’t do such a thing. Grabbing the packet of old stamps, Race sealed up another envelope and headed to the old building, a small spring in his step as he made his way down familiar streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's where i started to screw myself over; sorting this out will be...fun...
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old and new feelings come bursting forth much to the chagrin of Spot and Tony

**Brooklyn, 1899**

The sun was hanging high as Spot was finishing up the last of his hawking. His voice was starting to hurt just a little and he hoped his final papers would sell quick. Waving his arm in the air, newspaper in hand, Spot made a sale or two, his rhythm interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. 

“Hm?” he turned to the perpetrator, shielding his eyes. 

It was the postman that Spot had seen from before and he frowned at the man. “What?”

“Letter for Spot Conlon,” the postman repeated and Spot bit the inside of his cheek just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

“Thanks,” Spot took the letter and stuffed it away. 

Counting his papers, Spot sighed as he shuffled into an alley, setting them on top of some stray crates before tearing into the letter. Race was really getting into this joke and Spot was fed up. 

_Hey Spot._

_Didn’t think I’d hear back from you. I don’t know what’s happening either. We’ve been caught up in something special I think._

_Maybe this desk is a time portal. Is it yours?_

_Sorry. I’m full of questions. Guess I’ll get them out now. If I write something that doesn’t make sense, let me know. Language in this year is interesting, that’s all I can say._

_Okay, question time:_

_How old are you? I just turned 17._

_What do you do? I’m in school, senior year is coming this fall._

_Any pets?_

_Who is Race? I should’ve asked this right away, but it was like I knew him when I read his name. That I knew his life story already. I don’t know if that makes sense._

_You don’t have to answer these. I’m just curious._

_Hope you’re doing okay._

_Tony_

_P.S. Sending you and Race a long, happy life together, whatever the two of you may be._

Spot swallowed, his mind swarming. He wanted to blame Race for all of this, yet he knew this wasn’t Race. At least, not the Race he knew now. He had heard stories about people being born again, sometimes with memories they couldn’t possibly have. Maybe this Tony was Race in a hundred years.

Spot laughed to himself at this thought. He was already getting swept away in this tumultuous fantasy, thinking of ways to reply to Tony. At the very least, Race’s hunch was appearing to be true in all the right places and Spot figured he’d pay Race for the unspoken bet the next time they ran into each other at Sheepshead. 

In a way, he wasn’t surprised Tony had pegged his relationship with Race so easily. Jack had told him time and time again about their subtlety and it didn’t help Spot’s case that he had to mention Race in both of his letters now. 

Folding the paper, Spot tapped it in his hand, staring up at the bright blue sky. 

His heart was light, a small sigh leaving him as the wisps of clouds passed by. It felt good to have this. Maybe with Tony, he could confess things he wasn’t ready to say to Race or anyone else for that matter. Even if Tony didn’t have the answers, Spot wouldn’t have to keep things to himself like usual and he pushed off the wall of the alley to head back into the busy Brooklyn streets. 

Selling up the last of his papers, Spot went back to the lodging house with a grin, ready to answer Tony’s letter. 

~

“What’s got you smiling?” Race poked as Spot approached him at the entrance gate. 

Giving a short nod to Race, Spot tossed a quarter to him and Race’s eyes went wide. 

“Why…? What’re you up to, Spotty?” Race’s mouth quirked up in a way that made Spot’s heart stutter for just a moment.

“You were right,” Spot shrugged to ignore the goosebumps. “About the letter. Time travel. You know.” Spot waved his hand, hoping for Race to make his own conclusions.

Race’s mouth found an o before he went back to his signature grin and sidling up to Spot as they shuffled into the stadium. “So...what’s he like?”

“What’s who like?” Spot scowled as they snagged a space of their own. 

“Tony,” Race nudged. “My future self.”

Spot blinked at Race before shaking his head. He had come to the same conclusion as well. “Future self. Sure, Race.”

“Aw, c’mon, Spotty. Same name, probably has the same birthday, I’ll bet he looks like me too.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Spot crossed his arms. “Just what are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know,” Race suddenly became sheepish, turning his attention to the track. “Nothing, I ‘spose.”

The horses shot off and amongst the announcer and the cheers, Spot saw his opportunity. Pressing close to Race, he leaned in, his mouth brushing against Race’s ear. 

“You know I only got eyes for you.”

Spot backed away by the time the horses crossed the finish line for the first round, Race’s slow turn agonizing amongst the bustle of the crowd. His stare made up for it, boring into Spot before he motioned for Spot to follow him. As they left the stadium, Race tucked them away from the crowds, his hand lingering on Spot’s arm. 

“You mean that?”

“I do,” Spot nodded, taking Race’s wrist with his free hand. “This Tony isn’t even a friend, but I wouldn’t let him replace you anyhow.” 

The blush on Race’s face was apparent and he nodded, taking a hand back to scratch the back of his neck. 

“You should write him back.”

“Why?” 

“ ‘Cause,” Race shrugged. “You can’t leave me hanging.”

With a groan and Race’s laugh, Spot shoved Race lightly before pulling him into a small hug. “Just for you, pretty boy.”

Laughing some more, Race managed out a, “Stop,” before the two headed to where they would part ways. 

“I mean it though. Tony seems...neat,” Race shrugged before turning to Manhattan.

“Yeah, neat,” Spot rolled his eyes, watching Race until his figure disappeared on the bridge.

He had meant everything he said. That Race was all that mattered. Yet, that didn’t explain the small twist in his stomach, why his thoughts trailed back to Anthony. 

Tony. 

Whoever he was. 

Rubbing his forehead, Spot began his trek home, his mind and heart pulling him in opposite directions. Whatever was to come from this, he’d sort it all out. One more letter couldn’t hurt.

* * *

**Manhattan, 1999**

Tony had hoped for a better reaction from Sarah. 

“I don’t know, Tony, this is really weird,” she looked down at her hands, her eyebrows furrowed. “How can a letter just...appear?”

“Dunno,” Tony shrugged. “Maybe this desk has magic in it or something. Either way, I got a reply. That means he was real at some point, right?”

“I guess,” Sarah conceded, her worried expression lifting. “This is...this is beyond anything. Maybe I’ll ask Davey about it.”

Tony perked up, his grin growing wide. Sarah went to shake her head, but Tony was faster.

“Hey, he’s got access to lots of stuff at the library! Maybe he could find out more about Spot and Race!”

Running a hand down her face, Sarah took to cradling it with one hand and she let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Fine. I’ll see if he can find anything out. But you owe me one.”

“I’ll owe you several,” Tony shot some finger guns at her and Sarah laughed with a small head shake. 

“My head hurts thinking about this, but you just be careful, okay? I don’t need you sucked into some wormhole.” 

With a tight grin, Tony thought over her words. The only places of concern were the desk and the mailbox at the building. Those couldn’t possibly swallow up a whole person. On impulse, Tony stuck his fingers into the slot, beaming at Sarah when she raised her eyebrows at him. 

“Fingers still feel like they’re here,” he teased. 

“You’re amazing, Tony,” Sarah replied, sarcasm on the edge of her words.

“Ain’t I just?”

As if she had been holding back, Sarah fell into laughter and Tony could see the tears forming in her eyes. He blushed, if not a bit proud at how easily he could make Sarah laugh.

“Okay,” Sarah sighed, wiping at her face. “I should get going, but please do something with your day beside thinking about Spot. Promise?”

“Yes, Mom,” Tony groaned with extra finesse and Sarah gave him a light punch on her way out. 

With a small smile, Tony waited until he heard Sarah say goodbye to his mother before he pulled out the new letter from Spot. It wasn’t that Tony was ashamed of Sarah seeing this one, but he had decided upon its arrival that this was for his eyes alone. He could hardly contain his excitement, the envelope a tattered mess by the time he got the letter out. 

_July 2nd, 1899_

_Tony,_

_How many questions have you got in that head of yours?_

_Yes, this is my desk. Makes me look important, so says Race._

_I think I’m the same age as you. Don’t know when my birthday is. None of us really do._

_Newsies that is. That’s what I am. A newsboy. Selling papes, hawking headlines. Do we still exist in your time? I’m sure not. You probably get your news on metal or something strange like that._

_What are you studying? We have some classes here at the lodging house, but none of us could get to the formal schools. Even Silver who’s smart as a whip. But I think there’s other reasons. Her being a girl and dark skin and all._

_Hope people have stopped judging in your time._

_We don’t have pets here. I mean, sometimes a stray cat or dog will show up, but then it’s all of ours until it decides to leave us. I had a cat for a year but I don’t know what happened to her. She was just gone one day._

_As for Race, I don’t know where to start. We didn’t like each other at first. I thought he was too loud. He thought I was mean or something like that. Then, we got to talking, getting to know each other and now, we’re together. We hide what we really are. We don’t know what will happen to us if anyone finds out._

_Does that change too? Can people love who they want where you are?_

_What you said makes sense. Race said that you’re him in the future. What a card._

_Hope you’re doing well too._

_Spot_

_P.S. Thank you for your support. Wish the fellas could be like you._

A shaky sigh left Tony and he sunk in his chair. If only Spot knew what the future held. Would he be disappointed? Content? Tony couldn’t even begin to tell and he wondered what to write to Spot. 

Setting the letter on the desk, Tony propped up his elbows, leaning over it with his head in his hands. He couldn’t change Spot’s life, affect his decisions in any way, but he didn’t want to leave Spot this hopeless. If anything, Spot was just wandering through life and Tony could just be a shoulder to lean on. 

They could help each other, find strength in these letters. With a breath of resolution, Tony planned out his next letter, but as promised to Sarah, he tried to work on some chores, his mind raging with the feeling of Spot.

~

Tony bounded up the library steps, his steps echoing when he entered the mausoleum of a building. Spotting David at the front desk, Tony shot over, slamming his hands down on the wood and David jumped.

“Tony, you scared me!” David held a hand over his heart, leaning away from Tony’s wide grin.

“Sorry, hun,” Tony gave a fake pout. “Just wanted to know if you have any info for me.”

David’s eyes held no recognition for Tony’s question before his shoulders dropped. “Right. Sarah told me. No, Tony, nothing yet. There’s a lot of history to leaf through.”

“Do you need help?” Tony placed his forearms on the counter, leaning over on David’s side until David pushed him back.

“No,” David pointed, giving Tony a stern look. “I mean, I appreciate it, but I’d get in trouble if they knew I let some stranger go into the archives.”

“Stranger,” Tony scoffed, pressing his weight on the desk so his legs could swing around. “I’m your friend.”

David merely watched Tony’s erratic energy, rubbing his temple. “I’ll get on it as soon as I can, okay?”

Tony’s face lit up and he landed with a heavy thud on his feet. “Okay, Davey! It’s still okay if I check out some books right?”

David waved Tony away and Tony took that as his leave, heading up to the second floor of the library. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go. Despite being here all his life, he only had some semblance of how the library was organized. It wasn’t his fault that the children’s area was filled with the best books.

Following the signs, Tony found himself in the history section and he took careful note to find Spot’s time. Pulling a few books off the shelf, Tony brought them to an isolated chair and skimmed through them, looking for anything that related back to Spot. 

A few notes on newsboys caught his attention, but it wasn’t until he thumbed through a heavy book that he saw a point of interest. 

“Newsboys’ Strike of 1899,” Tony read out loud before tracing through the short paragraphs. 

He scanned for any familiar names, making a note of the ones he did come across. He was brought away into Spot’s world, people who might’ve known him, might’ve been his friend. How desperately Tony wished to be in their place. 

Roaming the streets, coming back to the comforts of the lodging house at the end of the day, perhaps it was a thankless life. Yet, a life nonetheless.

Pulling himself from the pages of the book, Tony frowned at no one. Not even a month ago, he hadn’t known who Spot was. Now, Tony was imagining how each day would be spent with him and it carved a hole in his chest. 

One hundred years separated Tony and Spot. There was no way to go back besides the small portal granted to Spot and himself, no way to truly meet. He needed to slow down before it got worse. 

Slamming the book shut, Tony set them on the cart before he rushed out of the library with a hasty goodbye to David. This wasn’t going to be farewell by any means, but he had to set up some kind of personal boundaries. He had let himself go too far numerous times, he wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Spot. 

With his mother still at work, Tony took the time to himself to think through his letter. His pencil flew across the paper and when he was finished, he sank in his chair, pouting. He was better than this, better than some love-at-first-sight crush. Crumpling up the paper, Tony began again. Again and again. 

By the time he had written his fifth draft, he threw his pencil, a dull ache at the back of his mind. With a heavy sigh, Tony shoved himself away from the desk and fell down on the bed, doubt creeping in to every corner of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have a clue my pals
> 
> [Wumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions abound

**Brooklyn, 1899**

Spot wasn’t disappointed.

He knew he couldn’t have too much of a good thing. Not that he could really consider this much of anything. 

A good week had passed and Spot was giving up hope on another reply. It had been nice while it lasted, maybe he needed this time away. 

Sitting at his perch at the docks, Spot drew his attention away from the water to watch his newsies. 

It was times like these that he wished they could remain as they were. Happy go-lucky kids without the weight of the world on their shoulders. Every one of them had their own problems, fears, but once in a while, they could play. Laugh and learn on the docks like one big family. 

“You look tired.”

Spot frowned, turning to the familiar voice. 

“Racetrack,” Spot greeted with a nod and turned back to his surveillance. 

“Tony been keeping you up?” Race teased, sitting on a corner of Spot’s crate. He chewed on his cigar, waiting for Spot’s reply.

“Nah,” Spot shook his head. “Haven’t heard from him for a week now.”

He didn’t know why he confessed this to Race. It felt like a betrayal to both Tony and Race, leaving Spot to hang his head just a little. 

“Maybe he’s busy. He’s got friends, don’t he?” Race pointed, his hand drawing closer to Spot’s. “Maybe kids in his time do more than just sell papes and survive.”

“Suppose,” Spot sighed, letting Race’s pinky capture his own. “I don’t know why I’m acting all strange about it.”

Race shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “If I didn’t hear from any of my friends for a week, I’d be concerned. It’s just the mother hen in you.”

“I’m not a mother, Race,” Spot shot back, tugging on Race’s pinky.

“Sure you ain’t.”

Spot glared at Race and the wicked grin on his face before Spot just huffed, his eye catching a smaller newsie standing a little too close to the dock edge for his liking. 

“Watch yourself, Copper,” Spot called out to them and the newsie hopped back before waving at Spot.

“Mama Spot, I like the sound of that.”

“Stop it,” Spot rolled his eyes, his blush creeping up to his cheeks. “What about you? Doting over Boots and Snipe Shooter and what’s-his-name…”

“Itey? Or Snitch?” Race didn’t hesitate. “I ain’t gonna hide it. I care about them all. Wanna make good kids out of ‘em.”

Meeting Race’s gaze, Spot couldn’t help wanting to smile just a little at this. Race could be selfish, watching out for himself alone, but sometimes Race did more. Spot saw more, and he knew Race wasn’t just the manipulative bastard he had pegged him for in the first place. Sure, Race liked to play his cards, but in the end, he was loyal. 

“I got something on my face?” Race rubbed at a smudge on his cheek, somehow making it worse.

“Nah,” Spot shook his head. “You’re good.”

Perking up, Race beamed at Spot, holding onto his vest with his free hand. “Course I am.”

Spot coughed out what sounded like a, “Cocky,” before sending Race’s stare a false grin. 

“Yeah and you’ve got some feelings for Tony.”

Spot’s smile faded quickly and he snapped his head away from Race. 

“I’m just joking,” Race reassured, their pinkies somehow becoming their entire hands tangling together. “But, if you like him, I don’t blame you.”

“I hardly know him, Race,” Spot spoke into the soft breeze that passed by. “ ‘sides, I got you.”

Race sighed, his hand squeezing Spot’s. “I know. But sometimes our hearts do what they does. As long as you keep a place for me, I don’t mind what happens between you and Tony. He’ll write back, I’m sure.”

Spot’s heart thrummed in his chest and he took a moment to study at Race in the midday sun. He was squinting just a little, his eyes holding nothing but the truth and Spot was being tugged in one second at a time. Were they alone, Spot might have taken the feeling further, but someone was bound to see. The fact that their hands hadn’t dropped yet was almost too much and Spot tried to take his own back. 

“No one’s looking,” Race reassured, his thumb running on the top of Spot’s hand. “You got the highest perch anyway.”

With his shoulders dropping, Spot let himself enjoy this moment with Race. There was no saying when the next time would be and taking a look around, Spot pulled Race’s hand up, placing a small kiss on it before setting their hands between them again. 

The smile on Race’s face said everything and Spot knew he didn’t need anything beyond what he and Race were.

~

_Hey Spot._

_Sorry it took me so long to write back. Truth is, I’m confused._

_I looked into some history books to see if I could find anything about you, but now, I think I just want to stay where we are. I know you’re real and that’s all that matters._

_I hope you don’t mind me looking you up. I was just curious. I didn’t see your name so I can’t spoil your future for you. Sorry._

_What I can say is that things are great and not so great in my time. People still judge, innocent lives are taken every day, but we’re fighting. We’re not letting ourselves be beat or silenced. It’s terrifying, but I’d rather be taking a stand than letting the world go bad._

_Some say the world’s already there, but I don’t think so. We can make a change, even if it’s the smallest thing, it’s still something. Don’t you think?_

_I’m getting distracted. You asked me about how we get our news. What I’m studying._

_Right now, they’re throwing all kinds of subjects at us...Math, Science, Literature, but I want to go to school for dancing. Funny, isn’t it? Yeah._

_Newspapers still exist but we get most of our news through...well, I don’t know how to describe it to you. It’s like magic. It shows up in an electric box and you can get all you need to know in a matter of minutes, even seconds, if you wanted. Man, this is weird. It really is like magic._

_We sort of have newsboys but not really. More like summer jobs for the kids. Now, kids have to go to school. No choice there._

_Can I confess something? I wish you were here. Or that I was there. I just want to be with you._

_That sounds a lot more heavy than I was intending. Friendship would be nice. What we’ve got is nice. Let’s keep it that way._

_Sending you the best._

_Tony_

* * *

**Manhattan, 1999**

Sarah watched with despondence as Tony repeatedly smashed his face into his pillow. 

“Why did I send that? I’m an idiot.”

“Tony,” Sarah reached out to stop him. “You’re not an idiot. You just have a lot of feelings and that’s okay.”

“Falling in love with a dead guy is not okay,” Tony rolled over, boring holes into the ceiling. 

Sarah rubbed her forehead, her face blank. “How can you be sure you’re falling in love? You could just care...a lot...for Spot.”

Tony looked at Sarah, catching her small head shake, and he sat up. “See? I’m in love.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Sarah shot back. “I’m not good at this, Tony, you know that. I...I think what you have is something special, but you don’t have to make it out to be love.”

Tony knew. He could probably, maybe, reel himself back in. After all, Spot had Race and Tony didn’t want to interfere in any way. Yet, thinking about Spot with Race, imagining them together, made Tony’s stomach twist with guilt. 

“I don’t know what to do, Sarah,” Tony started to crumble into himself. “I want the letters to stop, but I want to keep hearing from him. I want to know everything.”

Sarah remained quiet as she shifted in her chair. “Well, why not wait to see what Spot says? If he wants this to end, then you have your answer.”

Nodding, Tony found comfort in these words, the strength to meet Sarah’s eyes. “Okay.”

With a smile, Sarah got up and hugged Tony before clapping him on the back. “Now. Ryan’s party. We’re in charge of food remember?”

“Right, right,” Tony grabbed his things, thankful for this distraction. 

As he and Sarah planned out their part of the party, Tony couldn’t help the small part of him thinking back to Spot. He had to admit he was jumping to some pretty big conclusions. After all, their exchanges had just begun, the two of them discovering what strange occurrence was happening to them. Emotions were bound to be in a flurry and combining two teenagers wasn’t helping the situation. 

By the end of the day, Tony was exhausted thinking about it and the moment his head hit the pillow, he drifted off into a world far off from the one he knew.

~

_July 13th, 1899_

_Tony,_

_Don’t worry about it. Life is busy sometimes._

_It’s fine that you looked me up. Flattering almost. Too bad I fade into obscurity, but maybe it’s for the best._

_I’m glad you’re still fighting. I’d hate to see that kind of spirit die. I guess people are always going to be people and we have to make the best of it. What a world we live in. The future sounds like something I could never handle._

_I hope your dancing school is a good one. I’m sure you’re a talented dancer. Race likes dancing too. The more I learn about you, the more I see the similarities between you and Race. Almost terrifying if I’m being honest._

_On that note, I wish you were here too. I love Race, but I’m drawn to you and I wonder if meeting or seeing you would change anything. He said it’s fine if I shared my heart, but I don’t know what that really means. I don’t want to hurt him._

_We might as well see where this journey takes us, but let’s not go too far. Not yet. I still want to make sense of you and what I feel for Race._

_If you find anything about me or Race that doesn’t spoil too much, let me know. I’m curious of how history remembers us._

_Best wishes,_

_Spot_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? Concerns? 
> 
> heck if i've got any answers but i'll try lmao
> 
> [Chumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strike rears its head

**Brooklyn, 1899**

Days had flown by, letters still passed between Tony and Spot. 

Most of the time, Spot came back to the lodging house eager for any mail that awaited him, his responses written almost immediately after he’d finish reading. In his hectic life, it was a small comfort that easily melded with what he had with Race. 

Once in a while, he’d even share some parts with Race, but he knew when to keep it private. Spot wasn’t ready for that part of himself to be seen yet, his emotions a tangled web at the back of his mind. 

At any rate, Tony wasn’t even tangible. Any sort of feelings weren’t taken seriously, at least, that was what Spot tried to convince himself.

He sighed as he stared out from his post, watching his newsies play around on the docks. He had bigger things to worry about than some mystical kid from the future. 

Such as Jack’s strike. 

Spot rolled his eyes at this. Of course Jack would jump head first into this. Just like he did with so many other things in his life. Spot was almost a little envious at how simple it seemed over in Manhattan. 

He couldn’t take those kinds of risks. He had to think about his newsies, his own well-being. If he jumped ship, all of New York City could fall and he wasn’t ready to cause that disaster. 

It was only a matter of time before Jack would come over and ask him to join the strike. Race had mentioned something in passing, but with the worries etched on his face, Spot didn’t press as hard as he usually did. 

He didn’t want to see Race cry like last time.

A small thought told him he could try to ask Tony what to do, but Spot shoved it away as quickly as it had come. He was sure Tony had made an unwritten pact to not interfere with any future events. Spot was to live out his life as it was going to be, with or without letters.

Spot tried to focus on his surveillance, but he kept wandering back to Tony. Tony who seemed so sure and confident. It was then Spot realized he didn’t have to say exactly what was happening. Strike or no strike, all Spot needed was guidance. Surely that wouldn’t affect his path. 

Rolling his tongue around in his mouth, Spot played with this thought for a while. His mind didn’t stop buzzing, not for an instant until he sat down at his desk and he planned out his next letter.

His exchanges with Tony had turned into light conversations, talking about their daily lives. Tony had a busy summer of work, preparing for what was called senior year. He was learning things Spot only dreamed about, a life Spot envied. He was tempted to go so far as asking Tony to send him some of his assignments when he went back to school just to see what that kind of education was like. 

Maybe in the next letter he would. For now, it was the matter of the strike and Spot scrambled at writing as vaguely as he could. When he had finally scratched out his letter, Spot found it well enough and placed it in the slot of his desk. 

A heaviness had settled in his stomach and Spot wandered back to the docks, a small wish that he was just another kid like Tony.

~

Race hadn’t come.

Instead, it was just Jack, Boots, and some new guy he hadn’t seen before. 

Mouth. All dressed up with a family too. Spot didn’t care. His speech was nice enough, but that was all it was. A speech.

Spot needed more than that. Proof that this was something Manhattan would uphold. The world was dangling from his finger and Spot wasn’t going to cut that string just because Jack told him to. Maybe if Race was there, he could’ve been convinced, teased into it. 

Watching the retreating backs of the Manhattan newsies, Spot laughed to himself. Race wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. This was his matter alone and feelings weren’t going to get in the way of that.

His newsies seemed apprehensive, displeased, but Spot ignored them in favor of going back to the lodging house. Even if he had just sent the letter a few hours earlier, he hoped Tony had seen it. A reply would follow soon enough. 

Just as he was about to enter the lodging house a tap on his shoulder brought him back to the Brooklyn streets and he eyed the postman. 

“How do you always find me?” Spot couldn’t help ask as he was handed a letter. 

The postman didn’t reply beyond touching the brim of his hat and he left without so much as a, “Goodbye.” It left a bad taste in Spot’s mouth, but when he saw the familiar handwriting, he didn’t care so much. 

Rushing to his room, Spot tore open the letter, skimming over Tony’s letter before going back and reading it again, picking out the little details. 

_If it’s something dangerous, I’d say look out for your newsies first. Not that you shouldn’t be caring about Race and the problems with his friends, but if you rush in and someone gets hurt, you’ll be hurt too._

Tony knew him too well and Spot grinned at this. It was exactly how he felt. He’d wait to see what Manhattan did and if they proved themselves, then Spot would bring his brigade in. 

_But don’t disregard Race’s feelings either._

Spot’s smile fell, his stomach churning. 

_It sounds like he needs you. I know I’m contradicting myself a bit, but I just want the both of you to stay safe. I don’t want your relationship jeopardized because of this._

Tony’s words were rich and Spot breathed out sharply. Race’s blank face had been awful after Spot didn’t give him a clear answer during their short exchange on the street. If given the choice, Spot would’ve asked Race to run away with him, far away from any strike, any leaders or gougers. They didn’t need anyone but themselves.

The lie glared at Spot. He needed his newsies just like Race needed Manhattan. Spot couldn’t let himself be dragged into something so whimsical and a part of him wanted to blame Tony for this. 

If only Tony hadn’t written back, telling Spot about his world, then Spot wouldn’t be such a predicament. He wouldn’t be yearning for another life, wishing he was with Tony or Tony was with him. Race was enough. Had to be enough. 

His heart was being tugged too many ways and Spot glared at the setting sun. A part of him knew he’d make this decision in the strike, he almost blurted it out to Race as they argued. Falling onto his bed, Spot swallowed down the lump forming in his throat and he stared at the ceiling, holding the letter close to his chest. 

Damn Jack, damn Race, and damn Tony for dragging him into this mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> creative liberties ye
> 
> [Tingle](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's past and present collide

**Manhattan, 1999**

As much as Tony enjoyed the summer days, he wished he had more to distract himself with. Homework, school projects, anything than waiting around for Spot’s next letter. 

He spent plenty of time with his friends, wandered around the library, but he would always find himself back at his desk, waiting for something to drop in the empty slot. He never stopped learning new things about Spot and it was exciting, endearing. 

Despite how tough Spot seemed to act, he had a vulnerability to him. He cared for so many people and Tony wished Spot was able to be who he was, not hiding behind his exterior of being a leader. Then again, what better place to be with compassion like Spot’s?

The latest worry in Tony’s mind was Spot’s last letter. Spot’s writing had been unclear, a mixture of too many thoughts at once. Based on what he had read in history books, Tony assumed it was about time the strike happened. Spot was hesitant, vulnerable, and Tony did what he could to reassure Spot. He knew Spot was to be part of this strike, but it was still Spot’s entire livelihood at stake. 

Tony hoped his reply had been enough but with silence for a few days now, Tony was beginning to doubt himself. 

The sun was setting and Tony figured he’d spent enough time swaying on the porch swing. His feet led him to his bedroom, his hand reaching out for the desk as he laughed to himself. Then, he saw the piece of paper sticking out and Tony rushed for it, finding something else tucked inside. 

His heart leapt in his chest as he read over Spot’s retelling of the fight, how Brooklyn had saved Manhattan’s skin and that the strike was theirs. Not just Manhattan’s or Brooklyn’s, but for all the newsies of New York. Tony could feel the jubilation, the pride, and he grinned wildly at Spot’s sudden joy. 

Taking a look at what else Spot had included, Tony froze, his eyes not believing what he saw. In the torn out picture, Spot had circled himself and then wrote names below the other newsies with him. Bumlets, Skittery, Jake, these names Tony had seen before in a small catalog David had managed to find, but all Tony could stare at was the mirror images of his friends. He went to school with these boys, some were his closest companions. Michael and Ryan’s parallels were Mush and Blink, David was still David, the only unfamiliar face was Spot’s. 

Then, Tony’s breath hitched when he saw himself, an all too familiar name written with his face.

He was Racetrack or maybe Racetrack was him, Tony wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Race had the same features, as if someone had taken Tony to the past, took his picture and then brought him back to where he was now.

Tony sat down on his bed, his heart beating wildly in his chest. It looked like Race was right after all. He was Race’s future and suddenly it all made sense. Why he felt so strongly towards Spot, the instant attraction despite hardly knowing him. 

Spot. 

Tony’s eyes trailed over to where Spot stood in the picture and something hot pricked at the back of his eyes. Spot was everything Tony imagined. Not that he had really imagined much, but he stared at the face, memorizing every detail. An ache grew in his chest and Tony laid back on his bed, his mind trying to understand it all. 

He knew Spot. He had loved Spot once and that was beautiful yet heart wrenching all at once. He didn’t have the memories Race did, but the way his heart fluttered meant he had something else, something just as good. 

Bringing up the picture again, Tony sighed, eyes darting from Race to Spot. Spot and him. The parallels were becoming too much and Tony sat up, his breaths catching in his throat. 

He should be happy. Happy he had the friends back then that he had now, that his past self was able to love Spot. But he wanted to love Spot too. With a shaky sigh, Tony placed the clipping on his bedside table and buried his head in his hands. Heartbreak wasn’t supposed to feel like this. 

A reply was far from Tony’s mind despite Spot’s victory. Maybe some more time at the library would help and Tony only hoped David would be there when he arrived the next morning

~

“This is, uh, freaky,” David stared at the clipping. “This has got to be some kind of experiment or something. How is it all of us, Tony? Our friends, Jack, my brother…”

Tony shook his head, hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t know. Guess reincarnation is real or something.”

David gave Tony a pointed stare but said nothing else as he simply sighed. Not waiting for more of David’s reply, Tony jumped in, pointing at the names Spot wrote. 

“Now you got a full name. Spot Conlon. Racetrack Higgins. I want to know everything.”

“Do you though?” David cut in gently. “What if something bad happens to one of them, what if you just get more jealous than you already are?”

“I’m not jealous,” Tony defended himself with a grumble. 

David raised his eyebrows and set the clipping down so he could jot down the names. “I’ll see what I can find, but don’t blame the messenger.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tony sighed before thanking David and heading up to the second floor with the books David had set aside for him. 

Flipping them open, Tony scanned for Spot’s name and found it easily. For a moment, he wondered if David had hidden this book from him, but he shook it off as he read what little there was on Spot. Only two articles held his name and Tony smiled at how they described Spot and his actions. He had to admit pink suspenders were a nice touch.

Then, there was no more Spot and Race suddenly became the leader of Brooklyn. Swallowing, Tony hoped nothing had happened to Spot. Surely he would’ve felt, sensed something, but as he flipped through the book, Spot was gone. 

He hoped it was just an editing mistake, the papers not understanding the lives of newsboys, but as he gave the books back to David, something gnawed at the back of his mind.

“You okay, Tony?” David asked and Tony shook himself, putting on a smile for David.

“Never better.”

David let out a hum, but Tony didn’t wait for a reply. With a wave, he headed from the library, the sunny day having no effect on his darkened thoughts. He couldn’t prevent Spot’s death. History had to play out as it should, no matter how much Tony wanted to change it. Even if he did somehow save Spot’s life, it didn’t mean he’d ever get to meet him and Tony battled with himself as he trudged down the street. 

With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand down his face. He was getting in too deep and he didn’t know how to pull himself out. 

He needed Spot. Race needed Spot, but the answers in his mind weren’t the ones he wanted. When he got home, he dialed up his friends, hoping spending time with them would help sort out his fractured feelings.

~

Tony was regretting his decision to hang out with his friends. 

David and his big mouth had to mention the picture, leaving Tony to reluctantly show it before the whole room descended into chaos. 

“It’s gotta be fake. I don’t look that bad!”

“God, Hans, is that all you care about?” 

The picture was snatched from Tony’s hands and he panicked as it was tossed around.

“Guys,” Tony struggled to speak above the din. “Please be gentle with that.”

When it had finally landed in Michael’s hands, Tony let out a sigh of relief knowing now it’d be as safe as could be. Sliding into a chair, the friends crowded around Michael as he studied the picture.

“Gotta say it’s nice to know our past selves were just as much dorks back then as we are now,” Michael sighed.

“Ooh, let’s reenact it for the senior class photo,” Ryan suggested and laughter bubbled around the room. 

“Man, who picked out these names anyway?” Carlos peered over Michael’s shoulder. “Like mine. Itey. What the hell. Does that even mean anything?”

Taking a moment to look at the ceiling, Tony figured this was better than the whole group coming up with a government conspiracy like the last big incident they got wrapped up in. It was curious, however. The similarities were a little too close for comfort, even his friends’ personalities he could see in the newsies. 

Spot was still an empty space and while some asked about him, the interest wasn’t quite there. Not like Tony’s investment. 

“So, I guess this proves reincarnation is real then?” Troy adjusted his glasses. “Good to know we’ll just keep on...living.”

Again, the room broke into dispersed laughter, but for Tony, it meant so much more. If it was true, if this was a repeat, then that meant Spot was out there. He was wandering about, maybe in the same kind of fog like Tony with his emotions. 

Tony could start looking, but as he came up with this thought, something pulled him back. As if he should just leave well enough alone. Right now, he had Spot from the past, he didn’t need to go spoiling that. Spot sounded confused enough dealing with his Race and Tony, being put in the same situation already seemed like too much stress.

“So, who’s this guy then?” Ryan pointed to Spot. “Why am I hugging him?”

Tony raised his eyebrows, thinking over what to say. He didn’t want to tell his friends everything, even if David had blabbed enough. 

With a sigh, Tony explained the basics. Leader of Brooklyn, the tipping point in the strike, how he was on amicable terms with the Manhattan newsies. Even as Tony grew more and more confident speaking about him, he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything about Race and Spot. He knew his friends wouldn’t judge, but it just didn’t feel right.

No one pushed him to say anymore, much to Tony’s relief, and by the time he was finished, he felt as if he could breathe again. 

Just telling a little of Spot’s story calmed down Tony’s racing mind, his friends’ newfound interest a pleasant surprise. Soon enough, they were all speculating on each other’s past lives, what they might have done as a newsie, who was best friends with this Spot.

Grinning to himself, Tony thanked the stars for the friends he had. If they were truly one in the same with the newsies, then they were lucky to have stayed by each other’s sides through all these years. 

Even if Spot wasn’t there, maybe one day he’d join them and that sent Tony’s heart racing as he imagined what that would be like. An impossible dream, Tony let it stay in the back of his mind, his hopes carrying him away as the picture finally found its way back to his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh if there's any confusion: hans=dutchy, troy=specs
> 
> and just in case you haven't seen the 92 movie (pls contact me and i'll stream it on rabbit for u), [this is the photo i'm referencing](https://movie-screencaps.com/newsies-1992/39/#foobox-1/172/newsies-disneyscreencaps.com-7012.jpg?strip=all)
> 
> [Wumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot comes to an understanding

**Brooklyn, 1899**

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Spot glanced up from the cracked brick he had been focusing on, watching as Race came over and sat across from him in the damp alley. 

The two sat in silence, trepidation shared between them before Race started with a shaky breath. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

Nodding, Spot fiddled around with a stray pebble, rolling it around on the ground. Jack’s betrayal had turned everything over. Now, nothing made sense. Had Spot foreseen this, he wouldn’t have joined the strike. Or rather, he would’ve given Jack a good soaking before joining. 

“I’ll help you. Davey will help. We’ll figure this out,” Spot spoke, a tremble at the edge of his words. 

Never before had he felt this kind of fear. He had done unspeakable things in his past, but this shook him to his core and with not knowing what lay ahead, Spot found himself lost. Not even Race or Tony could pull him out at this point. 

The sounds of the city echoed in their small corner of the alley and Spot turned away from Race’s searching eyes. Then, Race moved to kneel in front of Spot, a question on his face. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Spot could see it, but he still refused to meet Race’s gaze. The hands on his face were gentle, a comfort Spot wanted to get lost in, and he met Race halfway as their lips brushed together. 

“I’m sorry,” Race breathed and Spot shook his head. 

“For what?”

“I don’t know,” Race shrugged, thumbs caressing Spot’s cheeks. “For everything. The strike, this whole mess with Jack, and…”

Race’s voice trailed off and Spot saw his gaze flicker down. 

“For letting you fall in love with Tony.”

Spot grabbed onto Race’s hands, pulling them down from his face to properly hold them. “Hey,” Spot leaned in to get Race to look at him. 

“I ain’t falling for no one but you, I swear...and–and this whole strike thing, we needed this. We needed to be treated fairly for once in our lives.” 

Race didn’t seem convinced and Spot dropped one of Race’s hands to cup his face. “I mean it, Racetrack. I...I love you and Tony ain’t gonna change that. ‘Sides, you’re the one that’s here. Really here.”

With Race’s wide eyes staring him down, Spot shifted, wishing he wasn’t in a smaller position than Race. 

“You...said it,” Race smiled and Spot noticed the wetness forming at the corners of his eyes. “Spot…”

Race rushed forward and Spot found himself pressed against the wall as Race kissed him. Wrapping his arms around Race’s waist, Spot deepened their embrace, the two sharing sighs of content as the world faded for the briefest of moments. When the kiss broke, both seemed reluctant to let go, but Race stood first, offering his hand out to Spot. 

“Suppose we should go back and keep everyone in line, huh?” Race suggested, his head tilted a little. 

Spot nodded, his hand squeezing Race’s as he got to his feet. “I’ll show you a few tricks, teach Davey some too.”

Race’s smile brightened the world around Spot and he wondered how he ever managed to get through his life without it. Heading to the bridge, Spot let his and Race’s fingers brush, his life finally making sense even if the end of the strike was nigh in sight.

~

_August 4th, 1899_

_Tony,_

_The strike is finally over._

_They didn’t lower the price of papes, but they’re buying back what we can’t sell. It’s something._

_I didn’t mean to take so long to write back to you, but it’s been hectic and I’ve been trying to sort out my thoughts._

_I care about you, Tony. I care about you so much and I don’t know why. It’s like I’ve known you as I know Race, love you as I love Race. But, that’s the thing._

_I can’t keep dragging you both along, flipping back and forth like you’re toys._

_What I’m trying to say is, I want us to remain friends, Tony, but I choose Race. Not that I should be picking and choosing, but to chase after what you are ain’t right. I can’t do that to Race._

_You’ll find someone. Maybe someone even better than me. Let me know when you do. Or if you don’t want to write back, that’s fine._

_I’ll never forget you._

_I promise._

_Yours,_

_Spot_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter; gotta let you guys have a nice moment before................
> 
> [Mumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is hit on all sides

**Manhattan, 1999**

The evening glow of the fireflies did nothing to help Tony's aching heart.

He should've expected Spot's last letter to be what it was, but he still felt at a loss. Of course Spot wouldn't have chosen him, but to carry on like this hurt more than words could say.

Tony kicked off a little from the porch, letting the swing sway and creak with his thoughts. A part of him was beyond happy that Spot was so sure of his feelings, that he wasn't shying away from what he had with Race. They were to be something great, even if they didn't have much time left together. Spot was right too, Tony had to admit. He would find someone, definitely not as great as Spot but someone nonetheless. They would still have each other in their hearts and Tony needed to focus on that.

"Anthony, Davey's here."

Tony glanced up at his mother letting David onto the back porch, a few papers in his hands. Waving his thanks to his mother, both waited until she disappeared inside before David took a seat next to Tony. "I found some things," David cleared his throat. "Well, I found a lot of things. What do you want to hear first?

Tony shrugged, eager and tired all at once. "Any bad news?"!

David hesitated and Tony's stomach churned. "Yeah. Spot kind of goes off the record, but I don't think he died early. There's still some paperwork I need access to and I'm working on that. As for this Racetrack..."

David's trailing silence was irritating, but Tony held his patience.

"He dies. Just before December in 1899. Scarlet fever, it says."

Tony's mind went blank, his body stiff as David's words echoed in his mind. 

He was so sure it was Spot who was supposed to die first, but even then Tony had hoped his gut was wrong. He tried to deny the truth, imagining another ending where Spot and Race were graced with a long life together, living beyond the years of the strike. ¨

Tony tried to steady his breathing, but nothing calmed him down as tears spilled from his eyes. Burying his face in his hands, Tony began sobbing and he hardly noticed David's hand on his back. 

"Why don't I remember? I should've felt...I..." Tony caved into himself, the world no longer making sense. 

This wasn't how it was supposed to go and Tony fought the urge to run up to his desk. All he could think about was Spot. He would be torn apart and Tony would be able to do nothing.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

Letting David hold him, Tony cried and cried until there were no more tears left and his body felt hollow.

"I think the most you can do is reassure him," David started as Tony recomposed himself. "Just be a shoulder to lean on."

Tony nodded, his head heavy on his shoulders. David was right. For now, he had to write to Spot as normal and when the inevitable happened, that was that. 

"Thanks, Davey," Tony spoke, small and quiet. "For everything."

"Do you still want me to...?" David started before cutting himself off with a head shake. 

"I guess," Tony mumbled, his reply coming out before he could stop himself.

David wrapped Tony up in another hug and it took several repetitions of Tony saying he'd be fine before David finally left his house. As he readied himself for bed, Tony thought of what to write Spot when a small idea struck him and he smiled just a little. 

Tony hoped Spot wouldn't mind this small token, the darker reminders kept at bay as he prepared what he needed for Spot.

~

Senior year was just around the corner and Tony was anxious. 

His exchanges with Spot had continued, but they were small, informal at best. It was as if Spot hadn't received his last letter and Tony tried to not be too offended at the lack of a response in regards to it. 

He was sure Spot was busy now that things were back to normal. He could only imagine what it would be like to run a group of kids. Tony himself was never one to step up to the plate. Not unless there was no other choice.

As he went through his school supplies, sirens rang through the street and Tony glanced out the window to see a police car speed by his house. In his mind, he joked that Sarah had probably ran a red light again, the phone ringing at the end of that thought. 

"Yo," he answered, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he flipped through a notebook. 

"Tony! Katherine, she's- the building's on fire, her father's building," Sarah's voice came through, trembling as she stumbled over her words.

The phone almost fell from its place and Tony clutched it, panic rising in his chest. "What?"

"No one's hurt, but half of it..." Sarah's voice became lost in the chaos that surrounded her, Katherine's frightened voice cutting in and out of the background.

Sinking to the floor, Tony's hands shook and he barely managed to reply. "I'll...I'll be there soon."

He didn't wait for Sarah's reply before he hung up, a numbness spreading to every inch of his body. Without the building, there was no writing to Spot. Tony had no way to let him know why he wouldn't be able to send them anymore. He had tried using the desk, but only Spot's letters seemed to come through that way.

Unable to stop his crying, Tony headed out into the streets, hoping to find Sarah quickly. Even with his tears blinding him, Tony ran and when he saw Sarah, the two hugged each other, both understanding the fate of this. The building was smoldering now, the fire put out, but where the mailbox had sat, nothing remained besides ashes and broken framework. 

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," Tony whispered, Sarah's hold the one thing keeping him standing. 

With the last of his resolve crumbling, Tony sobbed into Sarah's shoulder, his heart torn from him in a matter of seconds. 

Spot was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEN IM BACK IN AMERICA NEXT TUESDAY ILL BE BACK TO MY REGULAR FORMAT


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot is lost

**Brooklyn, 1899**

Spot didn’t think much of it when Tony’s letters stopped.

He had told Tony he didn’t have to write back if he didn’t want to and Spot figured he had enough now.

It didn’t hurt. Not that much.

What they had wasn’t meant to last anyway. Spot found most of his time with Race rather than the letters with Tony and that was where he was meant to be. 

“Don’t mean you should stop writing though,” Race shrugged when Spot let slip that Tony didn’t write anymore. “I think it helps you. A lot.”

“I ‘spose,” Spot sighed, leaning back to look at the sky. “I just don’t wanna keep sending to them if he don’t want them.”

Race rolled the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, contemplation on his face. “So, don’t then. Just write ‘em and keep ‘em in that box of yours.”

Spot stiffened at the mention of his box and he frowned at Race. “How do you know about that?”

“I can put two and two together, Spot,” Race grinned, pointing at the key around Spot’s neck.

As his hand reflexively grabbed it, Spot scowled. Time and time again he had tried to keep some, any, secret from Race, but in his own little way, Race always found out the truth. Spot’s grip remained tight on the key and he tossed Race’s idea around before giving in.

“Guess so. Maybe one day they’ll end up in his hands like the others.”

“That’s the spirit,” Race clapped a hand on Spot’s shoulder, squeezing just a little. “So, whaddya say? Wanna come with me to Sheepshead?”

Unable to stop the smile that grew on his face, Spot nodded, following Race’s lead to the stadium. Their hands brushed together, a conversation only they understood as they weaved through the busy streets. 

When Race pressed against his side, the crowds of Sheepshead milling around them, a small hope grew in Spot. 

His heart was light, safe in the knowledge that he didn’t have to give up on Tony just yet.

~ 

_October 5th, 1899_

_Tony,_

_It’s been a while since I last got a letter from you, but I still keep writing these._

_Damn you._

_I’m sorry, but I’m still mad. Why did you stop? I know I said you could, but I didn’t think you’d go completely silent. I had hoped for a goodbye at least._

_I’m only writing this for Race’s sake. He said I should keep doing this, so I will. I told him maybe these letters will find you eventually._

_I shouldn’t miss you like this, should I? Hoping for a letter to appear out of the blue. If you’re done with me, that’s it. I should respect your choice. I’m just hoping this is a fluke. That’s all._

_You opened a whole other world to me and helped me through so much, I said I wouldn’t forget you, remember?_

_I hope your life is well, wherever you are. Race sends his regards too._

_Yours,_

_Spot_

~

Fall was short lived as New York fell into winter and Spot shivered as a brisk wind passed through. Snow wasn’t supposed to come this early, but a few showers had landed themselves in the city and with it, forcing the newsies to brace the cold.

It had even kept Race away for a few days more than usual and Spot cursed the sky as he finished selling his papers. 

“Spot?” a voice cut in as Spot was handing off a newspaper.

“Hey, Boots. How are things?” He smiled at the familiar voice, but when he didn’t get a smile back, Spot’s stomach churned.

“You gotta come to Manhattan. Race...Race needs to see you.”

Spot nodded once and Boots started off in a speedy gait. 

“Can I ask?” Spot ventured as they reached the bridge, swallowing when he saw the hesitation on Boots’ face.

“Everyone’s been real sick,” Boots started, low. “Doctor did all he could but…”

A sharp breath left Spot and the conversation ended then, the two not wanting to converse as snow began to lightly fall. When they reached the lodging house, Spot did all he could to not rush to Race’s side in the quarantine room. With boys hacking left and right, Spot feared for his own newsies as he sat on Race’s bed.

“Hi, Spot,” Race smiled weakly.

His face was too pale, his reaching hand carrying a slight tremor as Spot latched onto it. His clothes hung off his body, so unnatural for how Race held himself, and his breaths came out short, stuttered. 

“Hi, pretty boy,” Spot put on his best smile, his other hand trailing down Race’s face. 

“Glad I got to see you one last time,” Race breathed, his gaze stuck on Spot.

Spot shook his head, giving Race’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t you say that. You’re gonna get better and you’re gonna be back at Sheepshead in no time.”

Race’s laugh was hoarse, interrupted by a series of coughs before he looked back at Spot. “I don’t think it’ll happen, Spot. I ain’t getting any better. Doctor said.”

“To hell with the doctor,” Spot’s frustration shot up and he lightened his grip when Race winced. “I...You can’t go, Race. Not yet.”

Race’s smile started to fade, his eyes too serious, and Spot could feel the sting of tears that threatened to fall. 

“Say it to me,” Race sighed, hand toying with the hem of Spot’s sleeve. “I need to hear it.”

Choking down the tightness in his chest, Spot brushed away some of the hair on Race’s forehead and stared deep into his eyes. “I love you, Antonio.”

“I love you too, Sean.”

Leaning forward, Spot placed a kiss on Race’s forehead, not caring who saw. He vowed to stay by Race’s side for as long as it took for him to get better. Brooklyn wouldn’t fall if he was gone a few days. Race needed him and Spot was willing to make this sacrifice. 

As Race closed his eyes, Spot held tight, his gaze only straying to the window as the snow began to pick up. Blinking away his tears, Spot fought the urge to scream at the world around him as he wished, urged, and hoped for Race to find his strength.

~

_Tony,_

_He’s gone._

_Race is gone and I don’t know what to do. I can’t live without him. He was everything. I hate talking about him in the past. I don’t want to believe this happened._

_Please help me. Please write back._

_I need you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for not posting on sunday; i wanted to give you all a breather plus the whole wi-fi situation ahhhhh
> 
> and pls feel free to scream at me this chapter hurt so much to write ;;;;
> 
> [Tumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries to heal

**Manhattan, 1999**

The holiday music was too cheerful, the lights too bright, and Tony tried to ignore it all like usual as he wandered down the street.

For the first time in months, a letter had appeared in the slot, leaving Tony desperate and despondent all over again. Race had died, Spot was grieving, but there was no way to send anything back.

Tony tried everything with the desk again and again, he even placed a letter on the former foundations of the building, but no letter had come since then. A small part of him tried to imagine one of the letters finding Spot, but in his heart, he knew the contact had been severed in the fire. 

He was wandering around in a fog. Even now, Tony wasn’t sure if he was heading in the right direction. His mind was stuck and nothing could drag him out from his corner. 

A call pulled his gaze from the ground and Tony saw Sarah’s familiar figure standing near the bridge. He waved, but his face struggled to hold the same sentiment.

“What’s the plan, Sarah?”

Tony had been reluctant to leave his house, not wanted to be bothered by the hustle and bustle of a holiday he didn’t even celebrate. Sarah had been insistent however and Tony caved easily.

“It’s a bit of a walk, but I think it will be worth it,” she smiled at Tony, hooking her arm in his.

With a small sigh, Tony let himself be led, the two friends starting on the long journey across the bridge. They had done this walk plenty of times before but looking at the structure, the river that lay below, Tony found himself in Spot’s and Race’s shoes. 

Race wouldn’t be crossing the bridge anymore, not in Spot’s time, and Tony frowned. It almost seemed like a cruel trick of fate that he was allowed to continue on. He wanted to stop, but Sarah seemed to be charging ahead. Caught tight in her grip, Tony was left with little choice as a shallow breath left him.

By the time they reached Brooklyn, Tony began to wonder why he hadn’t come over sooner. He blamed the busy school year, the summer of senior year preparations, but it was if a forgotten part of him had suddenly remembered and he swallowed. 

“We haven’t been here in a while,” Tony said, his words a muttered haze. 

“No, we haven’t.” Nostalgia hung in Sarah’s voice and she continued on their trek, block after block.

With each step, Tony could feel a confidence grow within him, the faded memories of Brooklyn bursting forth. He knew where they were going and a smile threatened its way onto his face. 

“Here we are. Not sure if Spot imagined this fate for his lodging house.”

Glancing up at the building, Tony noted the “High Rise Condos” sign and laughed to himself. 

“Maybe it’s the luxury they all deserved.”

Heading inside, the two were greeted by a woman in clean cut clothing and she held her hand out to Sarah.

“You must be the couple interested in renting here,” the woman beamed a false smile and Tony did his best to not raise an eyebrow.

He’d have to hear Sarah’s story later, but the woman led them up to the other floors and Tony’s chest tightened. As the woman explained the history of the building, Tony stared at the modified walls, imagining how the space must have looked when Spot was there. 

A large room with beds in rows, the basins for washing - how compacted the space was with walls dividing it now. Spot’s private space was probably off to the side and Tony trailed down the hallway, his feet leading him. 

His vision blurred, faded whispers passing through his mind. Newsies were staring at him as he approached the door at the end and his fingers trembled as he reached out. With a small click, the door swung open, a breeze pushing Tony inside.

The room was empty, just enough space for a bed and a writing desk. Spot managed with so little, Tony almost felt guilty for the luxury of his own home. Shaking his head, Tony glanced out the window to stop his fractured thoughts. He could see the docks from here, the ice-capped waves of the river, but his staring was interrupted with a chill down his spine. 

He could feel Spot, sensed that Spot could feel him too. 

An image clear as day entered Tony’s mind and he closed his eyes as he turned to where Spot’s bed used to lay. Spot was starting to smile, watching him with a fascinated interest as he sat on the bed. Tony stared back, the silence comfortable and familiar as he reached out to him.

He wanted to give Spot some sort of comfort, encouragement to continue on, but as voices entered his mind, Spot began to fade away. 

Breathing out, Tony opened his eyes to the sparse room and his shoulders dropped. Sarah poked her head in first, asking with just a look. 

“Just thinking what I could do with a space like this is all,” Tony thought up a quick lie and Sarah smiled back as the realtor talked on. 

By the time the tour was over, Tony was reluctant to leave, but he followed Sarah out anyway and stared back at the building. 

“It was good to see him,” Tony spoke, his voice soft. “Thank you, Sarah.”

Sarah squeezed his hand and the two shared a brief hug before starting back to Manhattan. 

“Davey might have some more things for you too, if you want.”

Tony nodded at this, a part of him ready to let Spot go. They had a wonderful summer together, maybe that was all they needed. The touch on each other’s lives before parting ways. 

“I’ll see him sometime this week,” Tony spoke without thinking. 

He scowled, impatient with his indecisive mind. He had just been settling into leaving the past behind him. 

Sarah gave him a small nudge and Tony shook his head. 

“Whatever you choose, I’m sure Spot won’t mind,” Sarah added thoughtfully. 

In this moment, Sarah was his voice of reason as smile broke on his face. Her words were never truer and Tony took in the sights of Brooklyn once more, savoring the memories that came with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i read somewhere that the brooklyn lodging house had been turned into condos;; i think from nineduane.queenitsy.com :d
> 
> what a turn of history
> 
> [Tingle](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot struggles

**Brooklyn, 1899**

The new year was closing in but Spot hardly noticed. 

With Race gone, Spot didn’t notice much at all. Not in the way he should.

In strangers, he saw Race’s smile and in his own newsies, there were remnants of what once was. Some days, Spot couldn’t take it, but he wasn’t going to throw himself off the bridge. He still had to be a leader, no matter what pain he was going through. Others tried to sympathize and talk, but Spot remained in himself, hiding the grief that sat just below the surface.

Whether it was because of Race’s death or something else, most days passed by uneventful and that hurt more than Spot wished to say.

A knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts and Spot hesitated on inviting the guest in. He didn’t want to see anymore faces for the day. Yet, before he could stop himself, he called them in, only relaxing when he saw a younger newsie shuffle up.

“What is it, Rooter?” Spot stayed in his seat in hopes of making himself smaller to the boy.

“I got something for you,” Rooter whispered. “I only just remembered it. Didn’t mean to hide it from you.”

Spot frowned just a little and he held out a welcoming hand. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s easy to forget things. What is it?”

Rooter didn’t seem convinced, but he held out a tattered envelope, his hands shaking. “Was supposed to give it to you months ago, but I kept forgetting and I got scared.”

Keeping his desperate emotions down, Spot sighed, giving Rooter a smile. “Well, you gave it to me now and that’s all that matters.”

Digging into his pocket, Spot handed Rooter a nickel and the boy lit up, giving Spot a gap-toothed grin before running from the room. As soon as the door closed, Spot scowled, turning the envelope over. 

The handwriting on the front was Tony’s and Spot wished he could turn back time. Maybe this was Tony’s goodbye that he had been waiting for. Pulling out the letter, Spot noticed something else inside but his eyes trailed to the paper in his hand.

_Hey Spot,_

_Of course I’ll keep writing. I’m happy you and Race have made it official. Or well, whatever you want to call it. I don’t think I would’ve wanted you to choose me anyway. It’s not like we would ever meet. Being your friend is more than I could ask for and I’m glad we don’t have to end this just yet._

_It’s good that whole strike business got sorted out too. I mean, I knew it was going to be okay, but I couldn’t tell you. You know._

_So, where do you go from here? Do you and Race have any special plans? Keep me posted. I’ll let you know if I find anyone too. It’ll be interesting._

_Is it okay if this once I say I love you? I’m going to._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Tony_

_P.S. I’ll never forget you either._

_P.S.S. I sent you a picture of myself. I just realized I never did return the favor._

Setting the letter to the side, Spot dug out the item from the envelope and his heart stopped in his chest. The envelope fell to the floor, but the picture remained tight in his grip.

It was Racetrack, his Racetrack, beaming at him in bright colors and strange clothing. It became hard to breathe and Spot let out a gasp as he stared endlessly at Tony. Even with his vision blurring at the edges, Spot didn’t dare pull his gaze away for fear of losing the picture for good. 

Unable to hold himself, Spot leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his legs, hands carding through his hair as a few fingers held firm to the picture. He hiccuped before his cries wracked his body, pain shooting to every corner. 

He needed Tony. He needed Race. He just needed someone. His tears felt hot and the lack of control frustrated him even more as he continued to cry. It seemed like hours before his composure came back and Spot held the picture to his chest. 

If he and Race had found each other when they did, then maybe in the future they’d come back together. Tony would find his Spot and everything would be right. 

With this small reassurance, Spot tucked the picture away where it would be safely kept and he crawled into his bed, letting his mind succumb to his exhaustion.

~

Spot woke to darkness. 

He blinked away his foggy mind and sat up, ruffling his hair. Lighting the lamp near him, Spot set it on his windowsill, a glare shot to the snow that sat outside. 

Settling back onto his bed, Spot shifted, staring into the empty space in the middle of his room. He could feel something and he held his breath, closing his eyes as he did so. 

Tony was here, his head tilted to the side, smiling at Spot. Spot couldn’t help return the gesture as he stared at Tony. His clothing was an odd choice, denim jacket over his white sweater. It was an endearing look however and his face, so like Race’s, tugged at Spot’s heartstrings. 

Tony began to reach out and Spot wanted to meet him halfway, but as he went to do so, Tony faded away. A knock on his door made Spot jump and he opened his eyes, frowning at where Tony had been. Getting to his feet, Spot threw the door open to see two small faces staring up at him. 

“We’s cold,” and, “We’re scared,” echoed in Spot’s ears. The two newsies were the youngest, only six years old, and Spot held his door open, letting the boys hop into his bed. 

“No kicking, you hear?” Spot ordered, a small lightness on the edges. 

The boys giggled as Spot turned out the light and he climbed in, relaxing almost immediately as the boys cuddled into him. He couldn’t help but see them as his own, hearing Race’s distant teasing about having children someday. 

As he drifted off, Spot’s thoughts went back to Tony, sometimes flowing into thoughts of Race. He missed them both terribly, but seeing Tony for just a short while, to know that Tony had somehow made his way to the lodging house was beyond anything Spot had imagined. 

If another version of himself truly existed in Tony’s time, Spot willed them to find Tony whatever the cost. He and Tony deserved nothing less and Spot, for the first time in a while, fell asleep quickly as the two small boys each held onto one of his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i need to sleep for like 10,000 years lol
> 
> [Wumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Spot find solace in their friends

**Manhattan, 2000**

Tony tapped his pencil against his notebook, a grand total of six words written on the page.

Besides the scratching of Sarah’s pencil, the study room was quiet. Almost too much so and Tony let out a sigh. 

“What is it?” Sarah asked, not looking up from her notes.

“Who said it was anything?”

Tony hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but his nerves, emotions, everything hadn’t settled down. At most, it was a dull ache at the back of his mind. 

“You’ve sighed five times already and you haven’t turned a single page of the book,” Sarah set her pencil aside and looked Tony in the eye. “What is it?” she repeated.

Tony turned away, attempting to focus on the trees outside. 

“Some days,” Tony swallowed, terrified of the words that sat on his tongue. “Some days I wish I never saw the letter. That I never wrote back. Then, I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Sarah was slow to nod, her gaze following Tony’s. “Do you really though?”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed and he clenched onto his pencil. Sarah was doubting him already, questioning his own resolution. Without the letters, Tony wouldn’t have known of Spot’s existence. The joys, the trials, the love, none of it would have existed in Tony’s life. 

“I…,” Tony’s voice cracked. “God, I miss him so much. It makes me want to find him. The Spot that should exist in our time. But...I’m so scared.”

“Why?” Sarah prodded again and Tony breathed in. 

“What am I going to say, Sarah? ‘Hey, I’m your boyfriend from the past’?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to replace Spot either.”

Tony shook his head and leaned forward, trying to make sense of his own words. 

“You wouldn’t be replacing him,” Sarah spoke. “You’re not Race and if Spot’s out there, he’s someone different too. You both might share a lot with your past selves, but you’re still your own person...people.”

Sarah was right, Tony conceded to that much, and he managed to give her half of a smile. “What do you think I should do then?”

“See Davey at the library,” she stated immediately, as if she had been waiting for Tony to ask that. “He’s been waiting for you, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony groaned, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll get to him.”

“You better,” Sarah’s voice was on the edge of threatening. “He won’t shut up about talking to you.”

This brought a laugh out of Tony and the fog on his mind parted when Sarah smiled back. How he had managed to become friends with her, Tony had no idea, but he was thankful to have her. Her strength, her support. 

He only hoped he would be able to offer the same kindness when the time came and as the sun shone through the window, Tony felt lighter than he had in weeks.

~

**Brooklyn, 1900**

The cold air bit at his cheeks, but Spot didn’t shiver as he stared out at the murky waves.

He was at his post at an unusual time, yet newsies drifted to and fro in the chilled weather as they kept their distance. He couldn’t help but notice that every time he looked at them, they looked away. Ignoring it as best he could, Spot thought over what was next, thumbing through the last papers of the morning edition. Someone said he was needed at the docks, but with the time ticking by, Spot was growing impatient.

When footsteps approached him, Spot was slow to turn and he frowned at the sight of David in front of him. Of all the Manhattan newsies, he hadn’t expected the walking mouth to come into Brooklyn territory, let alone making it as far as he did by himself.

“What do you want?” Spot asked with suspicion as he got to his feet. 

“To talk,” David shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer. 

“To talk,” Spot repeated with a scoff. “Well, talk then.”

David glanced around nervously, his shoulders hunched as he stood against the bitter wind. 

“How have you been?”

“Fine, dandy,” Spot threw a hand up. “What do you think, Mouth?”

Spot felt exposed under David’s eyes, even as they darted around. David’s words seemed to fail him and Spot was ready to throw him out of Brooklyn. He didn’t have time for this. 

“It’s Davey,” David spoke sternly. “You don’t need to be so rude.”

Spot rolled his eyes, turning his back to David. He waited to hear David march away but when the planks creaked, Spot held his breath. 

“We miss him too, Spot. Every day, it’s as if we’re waiting for him to burst through the door of the lodging house, teasing us about staying up for him.”

A pit grew in Spot’s stomach and he squeezed his eyes shut. David was talking as if he understood. He had only known Race for a few months, miniscule compared to the years Spot had on his heart. 

“You don’t know nothing,” Spot gritted out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“No, I don’t,” David was quick to respond. “But I know what he meant to you. That he was more than just a friend.”

The air had been sucked out of him and Spot struggled to regain his breath. Heat pricked at the back of his eyes, his composure flaking away. Spot wanted to reprimand himself, but when Race was on his last days, he hadn’t wanted to hide a single thing.

“You don’t have to go through this alone. Unless you’ve got some invisible friend we don’t know about, it’s just us.”

Spot wanted to laugh. He and Tony had seen each other once and Spot had his picture. Then, there were the numerous letters, proof enough that Tony was real. Yet, to be left by himself when he needed Tony most, Spot felt as if he had been stabbed. Maybe if Tony was still writing letters, Spot wouldn’t be how he was. 

“We can’t replace Race, but we’ll help you,” David’s voice cut through and Spot froze as arms wrapped around him from behind. “We’re here.”

David’s embrace was gentle, a ray of sun breaking through the clouds. Spot tried to focus on the water, how it no longer held its despair, even with the dark waves that splashed against the docks. It had been so long since he was held like this.

Spot choked down the sob that threatened to leave him and his fists - so tight at his sides - began to uncurl, reaching up towards David’s hands. 

He folded into the warmth that was David, begging for it to never leave, and for the first time in his life, Spot let his newsies see him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who added 1k more words to this fic cause my brain is a menace
> 
> [Tingle](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future isn't so bleak after all

**Brooklyn, 1902**

Spot never thought this day would come. 

He had almost hoped he would stay the King of Brooklyn forever, but life was not that kind. At any rate, the next leader was going to be much better than him, Spot had all his faith in her. 

Glancing around the room, Spot carded through all the memories. His first nights here, the moments spent with Race, the stain on the floorboard from when Silver had gotten sick, this room had been through it all. 

It didn’t seem right. Leaving it behind, moving somewhere else to make new memories. He had everything he needed right here and starting over felt like betrayal.

“Still got room in that bag of yours?”

Spot turned to Silver’s voice, giving her a small smirk. “What do you mean by that?”

“Kids got some gifts for you,” Silver pointed her thumb back towards the bunk room and Spot ducked his head as a small blush began to creep up.

“I just have one thing left to do. I’ll meet you there,” Spot nodded with a slight command in his voice and Silver tapped the brim of her cap.

Once she was out of sight, Spot pulled out his final letter. He had managed to snag a proper envelope for this one and taking his necklace off, he tucked the key inside with the goodbye.

With a breath, Spot placed the envelope in the slot and closed the desk, his fingers running over the wood. Silver didn’t say if she was going to keep it or not, but Spot was content with whatever she chose. He had done his time with it and that was what mattered. 

He was reluctant to pull his hand away, but when he heard distant voices calling for him, Spot shook himself before grabbing his bag, shoving his box of letters to the very bottom.

Heading down to the bunk room, Spot struggled to keep his composure as he was greeted by bright smiles, a few younger newsies rushing up to hug him.

“We’s gonna miss you, Spot,” a newsie stared up at him, tears in their eyes.

“I’ll miss you too,” Spot ruffled their hair. “But you got Silver now. She’ll take good care of you.”

The newsie buried their face into Spot, still clinging to him as Spot let out a shaky sigh. 

“You all gotta look out for each other,” he spoke to the room, giving everyone an even stare. “That’s the one rule we follow here in Brooklyn and if I get any word of it being broken, you’ll have to answer to me.”

The first smiles started to crack through and Spot allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up a little. Just this once.

When the youngest ones had finished their goodbyes, the older newsies took their turns, giving Spot small tokens. He tried to refuse, not wanting them to give up their best things, but with Silver’s pointed look, the pleading eyes of his newsies, Spot took each one carefully, placing them into his bag. 

He wanted to stay. Even if some days hurt more than others, he had a good life here. This was where his family was. 

“Well, you come visit sometime, you hear?” Spot handed Silver a piece of paper that held his new address. “And don’t think you’ve seen the last of me. I’ve got my eye on all of you.”

With wide stares from a few newsies, Spot couldn’t help the small laugh that broke out of him and he waved his goodbye as he departed from the bunk room. Choruses of farewells followed him down the stairs and when he stood in the dusty streets of Brooklyn, the first of the tears began to fall. 

He and Silver hugged each other tightly, the embrace warm, almost like Race’s hugs. 

“All right, go on, get,” Silver tried to lighten the mood and Spot entertained her with another small laugh as he wiped his tears away.

“You’ve been a real friend, Silver. Thanks for everything you’ve done,” Spot confessed, his grip on his bag tightening. 

From the scrawny kid that followed him around everywhere to a natural born leader, there were times where Spot couldn’t believe how much time had passed. He only hoped Silver would be able to shine someday, where she could truly be herself.

“You’d’ve done the same for me,” Silver spoke, cutting gently into Spot’s thoughts. “You take care of yourself.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die,” Spot made an x over his heart and Silver grinned. 

With another hug, the two finally split ways, Spot heading to a part of town he had only been in while hawking headlines. 

He’d still sell papers from time to time, he was sure that wasn’t out of his blood, but the impending loneliness was what worried him. 

All his plans had been made with Race in mind. Moving in together, traveling the country side by side. He didn’t have any other path set up and now it was him against the world. 

Shoving his hand into his pocket, Spot’s fingers traced along the picture of Tony and he stopped in the street, pulling it out to look at it. If Race had made it, alive and well in the future as Tony, then he owed it to him, the both of them, to live out his current life as best he could. 

After all, perhaps this meant he would find Race in the end and that was all the encouragement Spot needed to continue on his way to his new home.

* * *

**Manhattan, 2000**

Tony had avoided the library for longer than he had intended.

Whether it was fear or something else, he wasn’t sure, but he figured he should see what David had done. After all this work, it felt rude of him to just leave David hanging.

Walking up the marble steps, Tony stared at the building, confusion swarming in his mind. He still didn’t seem to know why he was here. Maybe Sarah’s pestering, maybe something else. He went up to the front desk, hands in his pockets, but beyond the simple hello, he didn’t know where to go from there. 

“Tony! Just the guy I wanted to see,” David smiled at him. 

Tony struggled to give a smile back and he waited as David dug out some papers. 

“I found something that I think links us to Spot,” David began, then waiting for Tony’s reaction. 

“Go on,” Tony nodded, hesitation rising in his chest.

Glancing down at the papers, David shuffled through them as if to collect his thoughts. “There’s something here about an estate under then name of Conlon. The current resident is an older woman, she doesn’t live too far from us in fact. If it’s your Spot she’s a descendent of, then we can find out more from her.”

Tony paused, breath hitching. Despite his apprehension at first, Tony didn’t stop the buzz in his head. If this woman was related to Spot, that meant she might have things of Spot’s, she might know what happened to him after his time of being a newsboy.

“Is there a number?” Tony shot forward and David put up a hand.

“I’m working on setting up a meeting with her. That sound good to you?”

With tears spilling out of his eyes, Tony shoved past David’s hand, wrapping his arms around his friend’s neck. 

“Thank you, Davey. Thank you so much,” Tony babbled out, wishing he could do more to show just how grateful he was. 

“I hope this is a good lead,” David spoke lightly and Tony put himself back on the right side of the desk, finding it in himself to grin. 

“Me too.”

Tony could see a light at the end of the tunnel and he wanted to laugh and cry. He could find his way back to Spot. They were worlds apart, but in this moment, it didn’t seem so far after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the desk has its own time traveling dynamics; kinda like a mind of its own
> 
> also i forgot to mention that i hc'ed spot around 16 at the beginning of this fic ;P
> 
> [Wumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds his way back to Spot

**Manhattan, 2000**

Tony shifted on the porch nervously, almost wanting to ring the doorbell again. 

The Conlon woman had agreed to a meeting but now that he was here, Tony wanted to bolt. It hadn’t helped that one more letter appeared, Spot saying a final goodbye with only a key to leave behind. It brought back Tony’s insomnia and he could only hope this wasn’t a dead end.

The house he arrived at was modest, two stories decorated with laced overhangs and blue shutters. As Tony waited, he took every detail to heart, already seeing Spot on a ladder painting the sides or sitting on the porch, watching the sun set every day.

He had done well for himself, that much Tony was sure of.

When the door opened, Tony held his breath and he smiled at the woman who greeted him. She was older, wrinkles at the corners of her eyes as her expression faltered for a moment. 

“Anthony?” She asked and Tony registered enough to nod his head. “Your friend told me you had an interest in my family tree. A school project, yes?”

David hadn’t mentioned this to Tony, but he was thankful for David thinking ahead.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tony answered quickly. “About the Newsboys Strike of 1899.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised, her smile widening. “I haven’t talked about that in a long while. Grandpa mentioned it so often, but after he died, it dwindled down.”

Tony wanted to blurt everything out, so many questions sat on his tongue, but he took a steady breath, not wanting to scare away the woman. 

“Did your grandfather ever go by Spot?”

The seconds ticked by as the woman slowly nodded her head, her look far off and distant. “You know him already,” the woman teased and Tony wanted to laugh. If only she knew.

“Yes, Grandpa said he was the infamous Spot Conlon, but how true that is, we’re not sure. It’s because of the newspaper articles that state–”

“–Racetrack Higgins,” Tony supplied and the woman looked on in surprise. 

“Yes, Racetrack,” she tested the name, something flashing in her eyes. “They say he was the leader of Brooklyn. Of course, Grandpa said that was a mistake, but you can never be sure, can you?”

Tony smiled a little and shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

“You can can me Elizabeth, please,” she gave Tony a friendly stare. “I wonder…” she spoke to no one before she left the room and Tony was left to gaze around. 

He could feel Spot here. The room was probably full of life with his family, a wife, children. All that seemed almost impossible, but then if this was his Spot, Tony wasn’t going to be so quick to underestimate him. 

While he hoped Spot was happy, Tony couldn’t help wonder if Spot ever spared a thought for him in his later years. A washed up memory in a tumultuous past.

“We’ve held onto this for so long,” Elizabeth reappeared, dragging Tony’s attention back to her. A wooden box was tight in her hands and Tony shivered. “Grandpa made us swear to never get rid of it.”

Tony’s hand shot to his pocket, but he held it there as Elizabeth glanced at him. The room was stuffy and he gripped onto the key as if the world depended on it.

“Do you know something about this?”

Swallowing, Tony sat down on the nearest couch and found his voice. “I think so.”

Though Elizabeth gave Tony a wary glance, she held out the box to him and he set it on his lap, pulling the key from his pocket. 

He held his breath as he tested the key in the lock, his heart skipping a beat when he heard a click. His actions weren’t his own, the lid seeming to come off on its own. If it wasn’t for the roughness of the wood keeping him in the present, centered, Tony would’ve thought this all a dream. 

A part of him knew what to expect inside, but it still took all of his strength to not burst into tears at the sight before him. The box was stuffed to the brim with filled envelopes and Tony pulled one out to read what they held. 

Here were Spot’s letters, the ones he didn’t send, and Tony wanted to look through them all immediately. He didn’t know when Spot stopped writing but that didn’t matter. These were for him and it sent his heart soaring. 

Elizabeth stared in awe, her mouth dropping open just a little before she rushed from the room again. Tony hoped for no more surprises but when she came back with a small book, her eyes were searching, pleading.

“You’re him, aren’t you? When I opened the door, I thought it was my imagination...”

Tony froze, unable to answer her. Sitting next to Tony, Elizabeth opened the book to a well-memorized page and there sat the picture Tony had sent Spot. It had aged through the years but Spot had kept it all this time and Tony could already feel his tears falling in familiar trails. His letter had made it to Spot after all.

“I never knew what he meant when he talked about you. It was so unbelievable...impossible. When he was dying, he gave me this and I never told anyone. I didn’t know how to tell anyone. How did your picture...how did you…?”

Smiling through his tears, Tony shook his head, not knowing where to start. “It’s a long story,” he managed, wiping away his tears.

Elizabeth’s gentle smile held the faintest trace of Spot and Tony’s heart clenched in his chest. 

“I’ve got time.”

~

Had Tony known how close they were, he would’ve tried to visit sooner. 

“Hi Spot,” Tony spoke to the aged stone in front of him. “I met your granddaughter. She said I could find you here.”

He laughed a little, his mind still trying to catch up with all that had happened. His recounting of the past months, Elizabeth’s confusion - despite it all, she believed Tony’s every word. They had shared plenty of tears and by the time Tony left the house, he had found a new friend in Elizabeth.

“She’s really great, you’ve raised a great person. Or at least, you did a good job with her dad. Whatever the right words are,” Tony stumbled.

“I’m glad you had a good life. I hope it was good. Elizabeth really loved you and I think that says a lot. Anyway…”

Tony pulled out one of the letters and read it over before turning back to the gravestone. “I think you did what Race wanted. He’d be proud of you, I know I am.” Tony sighed, holding onto his arm.

“Thank you for everything. You changed my life and it was all for the better. I mean it. I’ll always love you and it’s good to know you always loved me too.”

A soft breeze passed through and Tony smiled to himself as he tucked the letter away. “Well, Spot, I–”

Tony’s words were cut off then as something large crashed into him and he fell to the ground. Holding up his hands, Tony tried to squirm out from underneath the large dog that loomed over him, licking every inch of his face. 

“Spot, goddamnit, stop!” A voice called and Tony’s efforts stilled as the dog was pulled off of him.

“Sorry, man,” the voice broke through again. “I’m still working on him.”

A hand was in Tony’s face and he took it, brushing himself off with one hand as he was pulled to his feet. “It’s okay,” Tony began, his voice trailing off immediately.

It was Spot. Spot Conlon stood in front of him with a leather jacket and boots to match, eyebrows furrowed in a way Tony had only imagined. Tony tried to stop his widening eyes, but he knew the boy had already noticed.

“What, do I look familiar to you?” 

“Yes, I mean, no, I...I,” Tony halted his whirling mind and he shook his head. “You just remind me of someone.”

“Hopefully someone good,” the boy grinned before staring down at his hand that was still holding onto Tony’s. “Well, my name’s Sean. Good to meet you.”

With that, the boy - Sean - shook their hands before taking his own back and Tony snapped from his trance.

“I’m...I’m Tony. Anthony. Whatever you want to call me. I guess. It’s up to you. I just–”

“Whoa, slow down there, Racer,” Sean cut in before grinning. “Hey, that’s a good one. Your friends ever call you that? Because of your racing mind and all. I can see it from here.”

Tony’s heart stuttered in his chest, the heat rising to his face. “Not yet.”

“Well, is it okay if I use it?” Sean asked, his head tilting a little and Tony looked away as he nodded.

“Sweet. Oh, sorry if I interrupted something,” Sean motioned to the gravestone before he squinted at it. “Hey, he’s got the same name as me. Maybe a long lost relative. You related to him?”

Tony shook his head, all while wondering when he’d have to introduce Sean to Elizabeth. Then she could really get to know her grandfather. 

At this, Tony suppressed an eye roll. He was already planning more meetings with this Sean when all this might have been was an odd coincidence.

“That ‘I never forgot’ etched on there...it feels so familiar,” Sean broke Tony’s thoughts, his voice quiet. “I don’t know why.”

It was then a small laugh escaped from Tony and he didn’t falter under Sean’s stare. There was a flash of recognition, Sean’s eyes widening for a moment before he looked away. He mumbled something Tony didn’t catch, but he could sense Sean trying to pass over what had just happened.

“If you want, I can help you figure it out over a coffee. After all, you owe me one for Spot here.”

Tony motioned to the dog, who barked then, and Sean broke into a smile. “Fair enough. _Race_.” Tugging on the leash, Sean’s confidence came back as he led the way with a wink and Tony caught up to walk alongside him, his heart beating wildly. 

As they walked, Sean continued on talking, sharing little things about himself. He had just moved into town after all, ready to make new friends. Tony listened intently, but he could already feel the familiar sensation of falling. 

Fate had a funny way of presenting itself and that was all right. Tony mused that there was still time for adventures, a summer filled with love.

Racetrack and Spot had found their way back each other and with each pressing glance, their arms almost brushing together, Tony knew his and Sean’s own story had just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3c57VU6SyvU) the first thing that popped into my head
> 
> anyway
> 
> thank you so much for coming along for this ride!!! over the course of posting, i've been thinking about writing other little snippets so we might not be done with this au yet!!! if you have anything you'd like to see, send it my way or if you wanted to tackle it yourself, i'd love to see it!!! :D
> 
> [Tumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


End file.
